


Summer of You

by SilentNorth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Bokuto is totally living out of his van, But also, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Illnesses, M/M, Photography, Piano, Slow Build, Underage Drinking, ace Akaashi, all that jazz, just a nice (hopefully) summer love story, probably some family drama too, side kurotsuki, side yakulev - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9650978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentNorth/pseuds/SilentNorth
Summary: One would say Akaashi's is a lonely existence. He doesn't deny it. He's not bothered by it. In a couple weeks, he'll graduate so it doesn't matter that he hasn't made more than a few acquaintances these past four years. It'll be over soon anyway. Then he'll be off to university to do it all over again.That's the plan.But an ugly Volkswagen has a way of changing plans. The driver even more so.





	1. Nothing But Bass

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it with a new project. Please forgive me! This one I've actually been working on for some time. So perhaps that means I'll be able to keep up with it. Bear with me pretty please! Life is crazy for someone who just wants to write!

Being days away from summer vacation can be a really great feeling. The feeling of no more school should be uplifting, freeing. There are end of the year parties to plan and Facebook notifications lining up inviting everyone in the entire school. Whether or not the kid actually talks to you. It doesn’t matter. You probably wouldn’t see him at the party anyway. But there’s free food and free booze, so there’s really no downside to that.

But Akaashi needs friends to go to those kinds of parties.

Fine then, no parties.

There’s the nice weather to look forward to, family vacations to plan.

But Akaashi hates hot weather and his parents are planning a vacation to celebrate their fiftieth birthdays and twentieth anniversary. Alone.

Whatever. Akaashi was planning on spending the summer indoors anyway. Not like that’s anything new. That’s probably why his parents didn’t even consider inviting him along to—where are they going again? Mean, and most likely incorrect, but he’s allowed to think it.

So then summer’s looking to be a total bust.

Not like he has time to look ahead to it anyway. Being a senior in high school means that this time of the year is actually eating him alive. Literally. His parents had just asked him at dinner how finals were coming. Great, he’d said with a plastered on smile, one of his specialties. Then he immediately had run upstairs to ‘study’ some more.

He tilts his head at just the right angle to catch sight of the pile of work stacked on the edge of his desk. Maybe if he just willed it strong enough it would topple over into the awaiting trash bin below.

He waits a minute.

Nothing happens.

He sighs and his head falls back, staring at his ceiling.

This. This is what studying looks like. Lying on his back, facing the ceiling—he’s surprised his mattress doesn’t have a permanent imprint of his body stamped into it by now. Not yet, but by the end of the summer there will be.

What did he hear the kids at school calling it? Senior depression? That sounds about right. Of course, those words would usually be followed by Stress, Anxiety, What am I going to do with the rest of my life? Existential Crisis.

Sigh.

Two papers, three exams, and one oral report, but half of that is before finals officially start. Akaashi makes a mental list of to do’s. He could break them down even further, but that would feel like more work. That would mean outlines, drafts, notecards—study sessions?—speech practice—parents watching—no.

Sigh again.

Is it already dark outside?

He props himself up on his elbows to stare out his bedroom window. Clouds are blocking up most of the sunset, making it appear darker than usual. Maybe he’ll go to bed early. He could fool himself into thinking that he could get his outlines done tonight, but he doesn’t feel like it. Tomorrow, he thinks with certainty. It’s only Saturday night. He has all day Sunday for work, then class on Monday, officially beginning his last week of school.

He reminds himself that he had said the same thing last night and still hadn’t done anything all day.

This is how procrastination kills.

Of course, with the art of procrastinating comes the ability to do everything last minute and that is a skill he has been perfecting the past four years. His parents would have done something about it if he hadn’t brought home good grades. If he pulls through with finals, he’ll even be walking with the top ten percent of his class at graduation.

Akaashi pulls his pillow over his face. Just another thing to look forward to.

His mother calling from downstairs interrupts his thoughts of possible productivity. Akaashi groans. Given five more minutes or so of productive thinking, maybe he could’ve actually gotten himself to move to his desk. This is probably not true, but he can at least imagine getting work done and still be grumpy over the interruption anyway. Slowly, he rolls out of bed and shuffles his way to his door. Opening it, he faces the stairs and his mother’s head peeking around the corner to lean on the railing, looking at him expectantly.

“What?” he calls down, trying his best to mask his grouchiness.

She smiles up at him apologetically and Akaashi feels bad. She actually thinks she’s disturbing his precious study time. “Sorry to interrupt,” she starts, “but do you think you could run to the store for me real quick?”

Akaashi sighs through his nose so she doesn’t hear, bracing himself with his hands in the doorway. He could never say no to her and she probably knows that, too. She’s certainly cunning enough. That’s why she asked.

“Some exercise to get the blood pumping?” she prompts sweetly with a smile and a tilt of her head, as if daring him to refuse.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” he says at last. “Just let me get my shoes.”

She claps hers hands together and presses them to her lips where her smile grows to a grin. “Great!” And she disappears back into the living room.

Akaashi goes over to his desk, being sure not to make eye contact with his looming schoolwork. This is where he’d thrown his sneakers after coming home from school yesterday. They’re ratty, old converse. The fabric is starting to tear along the insides of his right foot and the tread is basically nonexistent. Every time his mother drags him shopping, she offers to buy him new ones. But these ones have lasted him all throughout high school, maybe even longer. He feels like he owes it to the shoes to finish out his last week. His mother even teased him saying he’d better not wear them to graduation.

Perhaps he will.

Anyway, she’s tried forcing new shoes on him with birthday and Christmas presents. They’re all good shoes, but they stack up in the back corner of his closet and other spare space he can find. At least she got the message quickly. Akaashi’s ritualistic wearing of the old converse was not to be deterred.

He yanks them on, jumping on the opposite foot to keep his balance. Sitting at his desk feels all too productive. He doesn’t bother lacing them up. That knot has been tied for at least a year now. He could spend those seconds doing so many other things, like waiting five more minutes to leave for school.

His mother hears him coming down the stairs and meets him at the front door, smiling and holding out a five-dollar bill. “I need some milk,” is all she says.

Akaashi wants to close the door on his head. Instead, he exhibits the patience needed to deal with his scatterbrained, manipulative mother and says, “Why do you need milk, Mother? It’s nearly nine.”

His closed-mouthed smile is equally as fake as her pleasant grin. It’s the usual stand off; the testiness between them when they think the other is completely out of their mind.

“Because we’re out,” she says, forcing the money into his hands and giving his nose a little, teasing tap with her finger, “and if you don’t do it tonight, I’ll forget to ask you to do it tomorrow.”

This is true, but Akaashi can also tell it’s his mother’s way of saying, _My son needs to get out of the house every once in a while._ Manipulative as always, but she also knows he’ll say yes.

He tucks the five dollars in his back pocket. “Alright, I won’t be long.”

“We won’t wait up for you,” she says giving his cheek a firm pat.

Akaashi aims a quizzical stare at his mother, but she has already turned away, heading down the hall. The gas station is just a ten-minute walk up the road at the intersection. There’s absolutely no reason this could take all night.

Deciding not to dwell on the matter, he heads out the door and off the front porch. At the end of the driveway a sidewalk starts. They live in one of those neighborhoods on the nice side of town, not a far drive to the city where his parents work just like the majority of the people on their streets and others like it. The houses are all lined up neatly, symmetrically, all white with dark roofs. Nice, even yards frame them and spherically trimmed hedges line the porches. You would need to have a city job with a city paycheck to afford that.

If you didn’t grow up here or you didn’t know the address, you could wander these streets for hours looking for your destination.

Normally, he’d drive to an actual grocery store to run his mother’s errands, but since it’s late and all she really needs is milk, there’s no point. It’s a warm night, though it’s dark, the scattering of street lamps will light his way once he turns out of his neighborhood. For now, the spotlights aimed at each house make his journey as easy as if the sun were still out. Contrary to his solitary—even hermit-like—tendency to lock himself in his room, Akaashi does like evening walks like this one. He used to take them more often, but now everyone seems to know that he’s on the verge of graduation. He blames his mother’s gossip and how she likes to brag about him. Now he’s too worried he’ll run into the neighbors and they’ll all want to know how he’s planned the rest of his life.

Hopefully now it’s late enough that everyone’s settled in for the night. His mother had been in her pajamas when he’d left. That’s probably why she decided to cajole him into doing this. She was just so comfy lounging in the living room.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and turn left onto the main road. Here there are more cars passing by, on their way home for the night. In the distance, Akaashi can see the gas station still lit. It has one of those twenty-four hour shops. His mother loves taking advantage of both that and his willingness to run errands for her. Thankfully, it’s usually a quick stop on his way home from school. These nighttime runs are few and far between. This had better not encourage her.

However, he has to admit, the way the fading sunlight just barely outlines the clouds in the sky overhead makes it almost seem worth it.

The gas station is empty, which makes the bright florescent light seem even colder. Actually, the coldness comes from the AC that’s cranked all the way up. It’s way too early for it to be set this high, Akaashi thinks. It’s still May after all. On the other hand, stores like this seem to only have two settings, too hot and stuffy during the winter, which only feels good right away when you walk in from the snow, but since you’re not going to take off your winter coat, it’s not long before you’re sweating. In this case, it’s freezing. They seem to set it back in April and won’t change it back until October.

Ignoring the cold, Akaashi hurries to the small refrigerator section, grabs the milk, and heads to the cashier. They seem to be the only two people in the entire store. Akaashi doesn’t mind. This way there’s no line. He’d hate to wait just for a half gallon of milk. He grabs a Twix from the candy section next to the register and sets it next to the milk.

He pays with his mother’s five dollars and the cashier double bags the milk for him and hands off the candy bar. It goes into his back pocket.

With the change jangling in his pocket, Akaashi leaves. Just like he’d predicted. It’s not even nine thirty yet. Did his mother expect him to find some party to crash on the way home? He starts back down the road.

He’s only a few feet from the gas station when a car heading in his direction runs up over the curve a little ways in front of him.

Don’t kids pray for this at finals? Akaashi wonders as the reckless car nears him.

At the last second, it bounces back down to the road, back on all four wheels, and pulls up next to him. Well, he’s not going to be run down, but that doesn’t necessarily take kidnapping off the list.

It’s an ugly van, one of those old hippie Volkswagen vans, a dusty olive green color. It has to be secondhand, at least. It’s banged up quite a bit, but seeing how the owner drives, is it really that surprising?

As intimidating as it is having a van roll up to you at night on a pretty deserted road, Akaashi can’t help but judge. Who owns something like this? Who actually makes the decision to drive this out in public? He thought these kinds of older models were more for car shows or something like that, not for actual driving. Apparently he was wrong.

It slows to a stop beside him and Akaashi’s stuck in between a flight or fight response. In other words, he’s tempted to keep walking and ignore the car, but his feet are glued to the asphalt. The window rolls down, inch-by-inch, and he can see the person inside quickly turning a crank. Manual windows? That plus the Volkswagen itself gives enough information about the owner. Weird. What an old car. Akaashi’s half intrigued, half—he doesn’t know what. So he stays where he is, staring at his reflection with his slightly surprised expression before the window rolls down completely.

Akaashi squints through the window. Does he know him? The guy isn’t much older than he is, Akaashi guesses. He has gray and black hair, all spiked up, and Akaashi wonders how much hair gel it takes to make you look like an owl. Even his golden eyes are owl-like. It makes Akaashi feel like a mouse and he ought to be running for his life right about now.

This is how he dies, he thinks, surprisingly calm.

“Hey,” he replies, lifting a hand and clutching the bag with the milk even tighter with the other.

“Hey, hey, hey!” a voice calls from inside, as if greeting an old friend.

Oh no—wait—Akaashi _does_ know him. They went to school together. Did they have gym a couple times? Or was it another class? Either way, Akaashi’s pretty sure he graduated last year. How could he have forgotten? The loud call that echoed along the lockers as he chatted with a friend. The obvious hair. It’s been a while, but Akaashi doesn’t think he could forget that.

What was his name again? Had they ever spoken to each other?

Owl Hair leans out the window casually with a big grin, but he rubs his nose sheepishly. “Akaashi,” he says with a smile that catches Akaashi off guard, “you’re still going to Fukurodani, right?” He points behind him, awkwardly wrapping his arm around to get the direction just right.

Mutely, Akaashi nods. Oh shit, he knows his name. How is he going to play this without looking like a complete ass?

As if seeing his confusion, Owl Hair brightens and elaborates, his finger moving to point to his chest excitedly. “Me too! Or, I used to. We went there together. Last year?” His voice starts off loud, but slowly lowers as if he’s beginning to question himself.

“Yes, I remember,” Akaashi says curtly, but he squints at Owl Hair. Was he in the band? He can’t remember. There were so many faces and it’s not like Akaashi had many acquaintances. Fukurodani is a fairly big school. He has enough on his plate with studying and college applications. As if he could bother to remember every one of his classmates’ names.

“Do you know of any pizza place that’s still open?” He hangs out of the window dramatically. “I’ve been driving around forever.”

Oh. That’s it?

Suddenly, Akaashi is very aware of how fast his heart is pounding. He lets out a sigh of relief, not knowing he’d been holding it is for so long. He doesn’t bother pausing to question why Owl Hair wouldn’t know this. He’s probably been off at school or something. Besides, you can’t Google something while you’re driving. Or you shouldn’t.

“Oh,” he says, “sure. There’s one down that way.” He points back the direction the car just came from. “Yaku’s. They’re open late on Saturdays. It’s two intersections down and at the light—”

“You wanna come, too?” Owl Hair asks, interrupting Akaashi’s directions.

Akaashi hesitates, frowning at the interruption—the stupid interruption. He’s trying to help this guy out—because he supposedly remembers him from school—so they can spend the least amount of time having this exchange. He knows Yaku’s is still relatively new, but if this guy went to school around here, surely he could find his way. Just accept the directions and leave already.

“No,” he says at last, as if it were obvious.

Immediately Owl Hair’s smile falls to a pout. An amazing and sudden shift that catches Akaashi off guard. “Aww, please? What fun’s a late night pizza adventure without some company?”

“It’s 9:30,” Akaashi deadpans at the explanation. Plus this guy is loud and even if they did go to school together and Owl hair somehow remembers him—awkward—this entire situation is far too exhausting for him to bother continuing. He starts to walk away.

“I’ll buy!”

In the split second following those words, two thoughts enter Akaashi’s mind. One: is he really considering saying yes to this person? Two: is he really so weak willed that he can’t say no to anyone?

There are two cases where Akaashi can never say no: to his mother and to free food.

He realizes his feet have stopped moving. Hook, line, and sinker—or whatever the fishing metaphor is. This random acquaintance—from what, a year ago—has found his one true weakness. As long as he gets his free pizza, Akaashi can honestly say he doesn’t care what else happens. His brain tells him he went to school with this guy and convinces him that he will be perfectly fine.

He turns around. “Really,” he asks skeptically.

Owl Hair nods eagerly. “Yeah sure. We could totally catch up!”

Catch up? They didn’t know each other to begin with. Mere high school acquaintances don’t count as friendships. Akaashi doesn’t even remember his name.

“This feels vaguely like prostitution.”

Owl Hair’s face splits into another grin as he laughs loud enough to echo. The houses along the street can probably hear him. “Probably!” he jokes.

“On the verge of kidnapping, too.”

“Is that right?” He tosses his head back and hoots out another loud laugh. “To think—I always thought you were the quiet kid, but you’re really funny!”

Akaashi crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “You don’t even know who I am. You don’t get to call me the quiet kid.”

“Alright, Akaashi, but you’re coming, right? I promise I won’t kidnap you or sell your body for drugs.”

“That’s going a little too far.” But nevertheless, Akaashi finds himself pulling the door open and sitting next to this guy. The thought of free pizza is the only thing keeping him from fidgeting. He sets the milk at his feet and realizes too late that the candy bar is still in his pocket. He’s already buckled himself in. Too late now. It’ll just have to melt.

“Sooo, what were those directions of yours again?”

Akaashi sighs. “Please pay attention this time."

*****

Akaashi finds two very important things out about Owl Hair in the following five minutes.

One: he has a lead foot when he drives. This would explain why he nearly ran Akaashi down and made road kill out of him.

Two: he doesn’t play music so much that his stereo pumps out a heart thumping bass.

Akaashi’s beginning to regret every decision he’s ever made that’s led him up to this point in his life.

Even though he gives Owl Hair plenty enough warning that the turn is the next right, he still slingshots around the bend, throwing Akaashi against his seatbelt, and following that momentum, slides right into a parking place. Massaging his collarbone, he looks about the near vacant parking lot. It’s probably just employees’ cars at this time. Who really wants pizza at—he checks his phone—nope, still nine thirty.

Well, he wants pizza at nine thirty at night. Even if no one else does.

Owl Hair switches off the car and they just sit there for a second. Suddenly the silence is ten times louder than the bass had been. Akaashi doesn’t want to jump out before his host does, if he can call him that. He is paying for the pizza after all. Instead, he just clings to the seatbelt with both hands.

“So,” Akaashi starts off unsure, “what’s the deal with the van?”

Owl Hair perks at this question. “Oh! He was all banged up and I found him for a really great price. He was a graduation gift to myself last year.” He pats the steering wheel lovingly. “He’s perfect, right?”

Akaashi doubts his definition of perfect and watches Owl Hair’s other hand move behind their seats, trying to be subtle. He follows the movement with his eyes. In a quick flick of his wrist, Owl Hair pulls a black curtain that’s on a rung, attached to the ceiling sloppily. Definitely a bad DIY job.

“It’s a bit messy so,” Owl Hair cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. “So pizza?”

Akaashi’s willing to let the matter drop. It’s not important anyhow really. What does he care what Owl Hair does with his weird van. He nods and they both step out into the parking lot. The van must be locked manually, which takes another second of waiting. The Owl Hair runs around the front to meet Akaashi.

“Ready?” he asks excitedly.

Akaashi follow him up to the small pizza shop, taking in his appearance since it had been too dark in the van to do so. His jeans are ripped in places that it’s apparent it wasn’t done artfully. They’re just old and worn down, but they’re cuffed around his ankles to still appear somewhat stylish. Though not appearing at first glance, his boots are for hiking. They’re just as worn as his pants and while it’s hot outside, the beginning warmth that May brings, he wears a tan colored bomber jacket over a white shirt. Akaashi wouldn’t call it attractive, it’s definitely an acquired taste, but Owl Hair somehow makes it work. He follows a black strap that hangs around his shoulder to a camera that hangs at his hip. Occasionally, his fingers will run over it as if making sure it’s still there. That must’ve been what he was fiddling with in the car, why it took him a while to get out.

Increasing his pace, Akaashi catches up to Owl Hair, eyes still locked on the camera. Owl Hair takes no notice, but grabs the camera and, in one fluid movement, as if second nature, he raises it to his face and takes a picture. Akaashi blinks at the flash. Owl Hair stares down at the image, smiles, satisfied, and tucks it back at his hip.

Owl Hair grabs the door and holds it open, gesturing for Akaashi to go on in, grinning as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Hesitantly, Akaashi enters.

The beanpole of a kid behind the counter straightens as a bell signals their entrance. It doesn’t so much as chime as it just whacks off the door instead. The kid, Akaashi recognizes him from school—Lev, he’s like ninety percent sure—tilts his head in confusion.

“Akaashi?”

He nods and offers a small wave of acknowledgement, but his greeting is swept aside as Owl Hair steps out from behind him. The kid’s confusion melts away and a smile blooms.

“Bokuto! It’s been a while!” he chirps.

And suddenly he and Owl hair are officially acquainted. Bokuto. Akaashi doesn’t think he remembers his name, but the more he hears out of that loud mouth, the more he’s beginning to piece together the name with the memory of the guy.

“Lev!” Bokuto shouts back. He runs up to the counter and slams his hands down.

Hesitantly, Akaashi approaches the counter beside him and watches as the two exchange some kind of brief handshake. Lev is a year younger than Akaashi. They must’ve known each other pretty well in school. He didn’t know the two were friends, but then he didn’t really know Lev until this year anyway.

“How have you been?” Lev asks, leaning on the counter so that his long body is nearly bent in half.

“Great!” Bokuto responds.

The two are loud and it grates on Akaashi’s nerves, but he stays where he is.

“How’s the team been?”

He feels like a child who was bribed to go out with his mother for a treat, but the mother got caught up in some conversation with an old friend. He only came for the pizza, then he can go back home and put off doing his homework and revisions for a bit longer.

“Everyone’s great! Where’ve you been? You said you’d come back and visit,” Lev accuses in a lighthearted manner.

Bokuto shrugs, trying to look unconcerned. “Dude, college was busy as hell.”

“You on a team?”

“Nah,” Bokuto says with a shake of his head. “Too much going on.”

Taking the hint, Lev straightens and sidesteps over to the register. “It’s too bad you couldn’t finish out your senior year,” he says offhandedly, but Bokuto catches it and his face falls onto the counter.

“Don’t remind me!” comes his muffled reply. Then his head pops back up and he glares sulkily back at Lev. “I would’ve given anything to play.”

“So,” Lev says, dragging it out slowly, “You guys want pizza?”

“Hell yes!” is Bokuto’s enthused reply while Akaashi just nods.

Lev casts a glance over his shoulder. “I’m just not sure what we have left,” Akaashi hears him mumble.

“We’ll take whatever you have,” Akaashi says, certainly not picky about his pizza.

Brightening at this, Lev whips back around to punch into the register. “Okay, yeah!” He finishes the order, then looks expectantly at Akaashi.

Taking the hint, he raises his finger to point at Bokuto. “He’s paying.”

“Ah, I see,” Lev says, a sneaky smile dragging on his lips as his eyes turn to Bokuto.

Under Akaashi’s hard expectant gaze, Bokuto reaches for his wallet and smiles because, yes, he did promise to pay and Akaashi’s going to hold him to that. It’s the only reason he agreed to come and be apart of this late night pizza adventure. So far it’s just being stuck in a room with two very loud people. He doesn’t necessarily see the appeal in that without food.

After paying, Bokuto picks up his camera again, his face going oddly serious after being so expressive during their brief time together. He snaps a picture of Lev in the back, taking out a pizza from a small oven in the back. Then he takes a step to his left, unaware of Akaashi’s presence all of a sudden. Akaashi quickly backtracks so he’s not in the way as Bokuto gets the same picture at a different angle.

Lev turns back to the counter with their pizza and pouts when he sees the camera is on him. “Hey,” he whines, “I didn’t agree to model.”

Bringing the camera down, Bokuto laughs sheepishly as he pinches a strand of his hair between his fingers and rolls it. “When the door of opportunity opens, you don’t ask questions, you just aim the camera and shoot.”

Lev and Akaashi both stare at him, Lev’s head slightly cocked.

“Dude, I was just grabbing a pizza,” Lev says, setting it on the counter.

“Hey, they could be masterpieces when I get them printed,” Bokuto protests with a pouting lower lip. Then his face brightens suddenly and he whips around to face Akaashi. “Akaashi! Will you let me take pictures of you?”

Akaashi freezes, hands already on the pizza box. He slides a quick glance over to Lev before back at Bokuto. “No,” he says slowly and takes the pizza over to the nearest table to the counter and the door. When he turns back, he sees an even bigger pout on Bokuto’s face as he holds the camera to his chest. He sighs. It would probably make this whole charade more enjoyable if Bokuto were in a better mood. “Well, maybe one or two, if it’ll make you happy,” he says as he slides into the plastic booth.

Bokuto’s almost depressive mood evaporates immediately and he practically skips over to the table while Lev laughs.

“You’ll regret that one, Akaashi,” he says with a smirk.

But Akaashi’s too distracted, wondering if he remembers Bokuto with a camera in high school. Honestly, he’s just trying to remember if he actually knew the guy at all. He perks up when Bokuto slides into the booth. He makes himself more aware of the situation and settles to keep a careful eye on Bokuto and where he’s aiming his camera. He decides he should get one request if he’s going to agree to this. He raises a finger, effectively hitting Bokuto’s imaginary pause button.

“One thing: you let me see them when we leave and delete whichever ones I want.”

Bokuto stares at him thoughtfully, chin rested on both fists, which are propped up on the table. He hums a moment before responding. “No,” he says at last, a tricky smile playing on his lips. Tables turned.

Raising an eyebrow at the denial, Akaashi stares right back. “Yes, you will.”

“I only have one rule,” Bokuto says, holding up a finger and successfully mocking Akaashi from a moment ago. “I never delete a picture.” His eyes narrow. “No matter what. However, I will let you tell me which ones you don’t like and I’ll make sure not to print them. Ever.”

Akaashi sighs and gives in, not in the mood for arguing. “That sounds fair enough.” Finally, he allows himself to glance down at the pizza in front of them. “Now, can we eat?”

“Sure,” Bokuto says, face relaxing back into his normal, carefree smile. He leans back on his bench and adjusts the lens of his camera. “Go ahead.”

Not needing to be told twice, Akaashi digs in. It doesn’t matter that Bokuto’s not making a move toward the pizza, even though this whole journey was just for him and because he wanted some pizza shop open late on a Saturday. Whatever. If he doesn’t want to eat, more for Akaashi. He grabs two slices and sandwiches them together. He only freezes halfway through the bite when he hears a snap. He looks up to see the camera aimed at him.

He frowns in disapproval, but doesn’t comment. Mainly because his mouth is full and he thinks spitting chunks at the camera would make for a much worse picture. So he ignores it and keeps eating.

At one point, on his fourth slice, Bokuto has the nerve to prop himself halfway across the table, camera inches away from Akaashi’s face. This time, he stops before taking a bite. He looks at Bokuto for an explanation.

Bokuto’s face pops out from being hidden behind the camera. “Sorry!” he says. “Just one shot and I’ll be done, okay?”

Whatever, Akaashi thinks and finishes the slice.

And Bokuto slumps back into his seat, carefully tucking his camera back into place before grabbing a piece for himself.

Now that the impromptu modeling session is over, Lev leans over the counter and asks, “So I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We’re not,” Akaashi replies flatly at the same time Bokuto says, “We just ran into each other tonight!”

Lev’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. “Oh really?” he asks, prompting for more.

“I stopped Akaashi for directions.”

“He promised free pizza.”

“So you just went along then? You’re certainly brave, Akaashi,” Lev says with amazement that’s not even mocking him, completely genuine, and that irks Akaashi. "I don't think I'd get in a car with just anyone."

He slides lower into his seat and shrugs. Okay, so maybe not the brightest decision he’s ever made. But, he argues against himself, at least he knew Bokuto wasn’t a complete stranger. Either way, he could blame it on his brain being fried from finals.

You technically haven’t done any of your finals yet, his brain reminds him and he scowls.

It’s fried from thinking about doing finals then and leaves it at that.

This is why he should never leave his room and why he had been planning on spending his summer vacation there. Out in the real world, it seems he tends to make a lot of poor life decisions. Just take tonight as an example. His mother sends him out for milk and he winds up in Yaku’s pizza place with two guys he hardly knows, one obviously a bit better than the other. Now the milk’s probably going bad in the van and his candy bar is going gross in his back pocket. He doesn’t want to feel and check for the melted chocolate.

Usually he goes out and doesn’t look both ways before crossing the road, ending with some guy honking his horn at him. And that’s normally the worst that happens. Other times he leaves without money or starts off in the wrong direction. Maybe now he’s progressed to getting into weird vans with near strangers.

He reaches for his fifth slice. Well at least Bokuto is Bokuto, not some creepy, middle-aged man. He still has _some_ standards after all. And that’s all that matters.

Somehow, he makes himself feel better about the situation.

And then it hits him.

Subconsciously, he claps his hands together as he says, “That’s it!” under his breath, accidentally silencing the room.

Bokuto and Lev turn to face him and for a second it stuns Akaashi that he has an audience all of a sudden. Against his will, he feels himself blushing under their eyes. “I remember. We _did_ meet,” he goes on to say, looking at Bokuto. Lev leans imploringly on the counter, watching the exchange. “Sort of,” he acquiesces, but then points an accusing finger at Bokuto. “You were the kid who knocked lunch all over me my first year.”

While Lev’s laugh explodes out of him, Bokuto’s face flushes bright red as his eyes go wide. “Wh-what?” he stutters.

“You didn’t apologize either,” Akaashi mutters darkly as he crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed at the resurfaced memory. However, he does feel better now having a solid memory to attach to Bokuto. Yes, he remembers him being noisy everyday in the halls, but this he actually remembers. He remembers the surprised look on his face and how his dark haired friend had laughed and then Akaashi was out of there, off to the restrooms to clean his shirt. It’s something concrete.

Bokuto rubs his neck where his blush starts, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, well—sorry?”

There’s no real need for his apology. It happened almost four years ago. He shrugs off Bokuto’s words, but before he can say anything, Bokuto butts in, a sly smile on his lips.

“So you didn’t remember me at all?” he asks, a light laugh following his words.

Akaashi frowns, but he can feel his face heating up against his will. He guesses remembering their meeting suddenly like that automatically gave him away that, no, he didn’t recall who Bokuto was when he pulled up alongside him. His frown deepens as he tries to keep his inevitable blushing at bay.

“Well, no,” he sputters. “I didn’t know your name and I didn’t really know who you were, but—” He trails off, resorting to shrugging again without really knowing what else to do.

Bokuto gives off a loud laugh that echoes in the empty pizza shop. It makes Lev smile and even brings slight ease to Akaashi, allowing his shoulders to droop ever so slightly. “Dude, why’d you get in my car then.”

“Tch.” Crossing his arms over his chest defensively, Akaashi looks away. “I knew you, but I didn’t really _know_ you, alright?” His voice goes quieter as he adds, “Plus you promised pizza.”

This causes Bokuto to laugh again, even louder if that’s possible. When it dies down, he has either become distracted or has the good graces of changing the topic. Perhaps he saw how embarrassed Akaashi has become. Of course, this is unlikely. Despite his red face, Akaashi hopes he’s been able to keep his face relatively blank. Unless Bokuto has the uncanny instincts of Akaashi’s mother, he shouldn’t know the difference really.

His eyes fall to the empty pizza box between them. “Do you need a ride home?” he asks.

Akaashi keeps his eyes downcast, brows drawn, still frowning. “No,” he says. “I live close. I can walk.”

“If you live close, that means I can drive you home, no problem,” Bokuto says, leaning back in his seat and tossing his arms back to fold behind his head. He gives Akaashi a bright smile that’s obviously teasing.

Finally glancing up, Akaashi sighs. In that instant, Bokuto swings up his camera to steal another shot. He barks out a laugh at Akaashi’s expression.

“Last one, I promise!” he says, holding up a pinky.

Akaashi stares at the gesture, confused. “What’s that for?”

Bokuto’s eyes open further to look at his extended finger. “Well, you know, like a pinky promise but no one actually does that anymore, right? So it’s just my sign for making a promise.” He smiles again and hooks his pinky before taking it down. “But what I should say is that it’s the last picture of the night. You make too good of a model for me not to again.”

Standing up, Akaashi doesn’t want to think of those words as any kind of promise.

They say their goodbyes to Lev. He tells Akaashi that he’ll see him at school on Monday. Reminded of the upcoming week, and the fact that he’s done no work to prepare for it, Akaashi begrudgingly agrees. Bokuto announces that now he knows about the place, he’ll be back soon to bother Lev. The taller boy smiles at that prospect, something Akaashi doesn’t think should be an event to look forward to.

As the two walk out into the parking lot, Akaashi glances at the sky anxiously. He wasn’t supposed to be gone for so long. He checks his phone. It’s already half past ten. Despite what his mother had said, she’s probably still worrying. How did Bokuto manage to pull him away for so long? He hopes the milk hasn’t gone bad in the van. It’s probably all warm by now. Does that make it go bad? He rubs his hands over his face. The last thing he needs is for Bokuto to blame him for stinking his van up. He checks his phone again. A minute hasn’t even had time to pass yet.

Bokuto passes by and grips Akaashi’s shoulder briefly. “What’re you so antsy about?” he asks with a lighthearted laugh. He acts as if he’s never been stressed before in his life.

For a moment, Akaashi burns with envy, but that quickly passes as he fidgets and clicks his phone on and off twice just to have something to do. He’s watching the clock, but the time doesn’t really register in his head.

“I just have a lot of homework I need to get done.”

It’s a lie. That’s absolutely not what he was thinking about. It’s just a better excuse than saying that he’s worrying over a bit of milk in Bokuto’s van. But saying those words aloud is an awful reminder of the work he has piled up on his desk. Did he have any intention of starting it tonight before running into Bokuto? No way. However, not being in the same room as it, not having it loom over his shoulder, brings its own stress. He’d rather have the potential to complete it than be tied up out here getting pizza.

“Dude, it’s Saturday.” Bokuto jostles him and steps away to unlock the car. The key goes into the lock after his third attempt.

It brings back memories of old late night snack adventures Akaashi hadn’t thought about in years. They couldn’t really be called adventures, but he remembers staying up late into the night and the growl of his stomach that would interrupt him. Then he’d find whatever place was still open at that hour and walk. Usually it was Yaku’s, but that was before he knew Lev so thankfully those trips were quiet ones. Peaceful. Just him, a couple slices of pizza, and his thoughts. Maybe some homework if he was feeling productive.

It’s strange to be thinking of them now. The memories hurt, he realizes with a bit of surprise. Take his breath away before he realizes it and he can’t reason out why. He tucks them back into the farthest reaches of his mind before he can take a closer look, become too acquainted with them again. They’re best forgotten. He’d rather stay in his room on a Saturday night anyway.

If his stomach growls, then there’s always food in the kitchen. Or he can just ignore it.

And he sticks to not remembering when that was different.

“Well, anyway,” he starts, turning to face Bokuto, “thank you for the pizza, Bokuto. I’m glad I was able to help you find Yaku’s alright. I won’t impose any longer.” With a quick bow, he turns away to start walking off. It’d be best if Bokuto just let him walk, ignoring his earlier offer.

Halfway into his van, Bokuto freezes and cocks his head in Akaashi’s direction. “Akaashi? Where are you going?”

Akaashi turns around, but continues stepping backwards. “I walk here all the time,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “You really don’t need to drive me home.”

Bokuto chuckles and leans against the front of his van. “Yeah? You’re not forgetting anything?”

His fists open and close at his side, wondering if something should be in their grip. “My milk,” he deadpans. Sighing deeply, he walks back to the van. He holds out a hand for Bokuto to give him the grocery bag.

But Bokuto shakes his head, wearing a big smile that grates on Akaashi’s nerves. “Oh no you don’t, get in.” He nods pointedly at the front seat. “I’m not going to let you just walk home when I have Vinny.”

“Vinny?”

“My van! Duh,” Bokuto says. “Didn’t I introduce you?”

“No,” Akaashi replies with a frown, “you didn’t.”

So the ugly Volkswagen has a name. Akaashi would’ve never guessed. No, wait—maybe he could’ve after all. Spending an evening with Bokuto, just about anything is possible. Honestly, he shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. But a name like Vinny?

“But Vinny?” he asks, voicing his concerned thoughts.

“Uh yeah. Sounds like van, I guess.” Bokuto scratches his cheek with the embarrassment of explaining himself.

“Oh, well okay then.” He can’t really think of anything more to say.

“So? Are you getting in or what?” Bokuto asks, leaning forward on the opened door. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Apparently,” Akaashi mutters under his breath. Of course, it would be faster than walking. “Well, the last thing I want is for Lev to kick you out, so I guess we can’t afford to have a standoff, now can we?”

“Great!” Bokuto cheers loudly, making Akaashi glad there’s no houses close enough to hear. “Get in!” He slides back into the driver’s seat.

*****

It’s quarter to eleven when he walks in the door. He waits for a second at the window, watching Bokuto’s Volkswagen with a puff of smoke from the exhaust pipe. What an ugly vehicle, he thinks, not for the first time that evening. Akaashi’s not quite sure how he feels about Bokuto knowing where he lives now. He seems like the kind of person that would impose on him without really thinking otherwise. Akaashi hopes he’s wrong.

The television is off in the living room and his parents are nowhere to be found. They must be in their bedroom. His mother had been right when she’d said they wouldn’t wait up for him. He wonders if they honestly hadn’t been the least bit worried when it took him longer to return home. He checks his phone again. No messages. He scowls, not sure what to think. He feels as if he’d just played right into his mother’s hands, though there is no possible way she could’ve predicted how this wild evening would go. No way whatsoever. It was too crazy, too out of the ordinary for Akaashi. The least she could’ve done is be worried about her son’s lateness. Not that Akaashi was hoping for a lecture or anything.

Grumbling under his breath, Akaashi makes his way to the kitchen. He tucks the milk away into the refrigerator and hopes there won’t be any future signs that it had grown warm in Bokuto’s van while they’d eaten pizza. His candy bar on the other hand is definitely melted from being sat on too long. That’s an easier fix. He tucks it away into the freezer and decides on having it tomorrow as a snack. He’s happily full on pizza though he could say otherwise on the company he’d kept.

He sneaks up the stairs, stepping lightly and skipping the third and eighth step that he knows squeak and creak under any kind of weight. It’s a simple kind of thing any teenager would know about his house. It’s certainly not from slipping out of the house. He’s had quite the boring high school years, he thinks looking back on it. Not that he regrets that exactly. Honestly, he doesn’t really care. He didn’t ever get into much trouble so he got to skip out of any huge lectures with his parents. He liked quiet and disliked confrontation. Being boring in high school was the perfect way to achieve that lifestyle. His parents certainly wouldn’t complain.

Despite climbing quietly up the steps and changing silently in his room, his mother catches whiff of his appearance as he’s moving down the hall toward the bathroom to brush his teeth. She knows everything that happens in this house. Akaashi was dumb to think he could avoid that.

“Keiji?” she calls from her room. “You’re home?”

He bypasses the bathroom and pokes his head in. The room is gloomy, the only light coming from their television is flashing on the other side of the room and his father’s lamp. The television is turned down to a low buzz so as not to disturb his father who lies with a book propped up on his chest and reading glasses riding low on his nose. His mouth forms the words as he reads. He must be quite invested because he doesn’t move an inch at Akaashi’s entrance.

His mother is turned away from her show and she smiles at him. “Everything go okay? You got the milk?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding. His hands press to his pockets but he’s already changed into sweatpants. That’ll have to change soon with summer only weeks away. “I have your change, but it’s in my jeans.”

“Put it on the counter in the morning,” she replies. Her eyes slide back to her show.

This is a good enough chance as any to bid them both goodnight and to make his escape. He begins back out of the room. His only mistake is that the door begins to squeak just as he opens his mouth. This draws his mother’s attention once more to his displeasure.

She turns back around to face him. “So you’re not going to tell me how it went?”

He feigns ignorance without even thinking. “How what went? The milk?”

“Yes,” she says cunningly, drawing out the word, almost snake-like. “How _did_ the milk go?”

“Just as fine as it could go.” He backs another inch out, but there’s no escaping her eyes.

“Keiji. It doesn’t take more than an hour to get milk.” Her eyebrows arch neatly. She’s onto him.

Akaashi cringes at her bluntness. Normally she’d dance around it a bit more, probing him with questions until he finally gave her something to go on. Therefore, he shouldn’t bother dancing around the subject either. The sooner he gets it over with, the sooner they can both get to bed. He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “I ran into an old classmate. We went for pizza.”

Her smile grows slowly. “Ah, so that’s why you look so happy.”

That snaps his eyes back to her face. “What?” he utters. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she hums, leaning back into her pillow. “You just seem very upbeat tonight.”

And to the outside eye, Akaashi doesn’t look any different. He’s got his usual poker face on. He’s very good at that after all. Maybe it’s his aura or something. His mother believes in stuff like that probably just to fool herself into believing she’s picking up on something. The only problem is that most times she is. A full stomach of pizza can do wonders for a person’s aura. At least he thinks it would. If not, well then it should. That must be what she’s sensing. Of course it is.

“Now,” she continues and folds her hands over her stomach, “do I know this old classmate?”

“Why do you assume that’s what made me happy? The pizza was quite good,” he replies, planting his hands on his hips.

“Ooh, you went to Yaku’s, didn’t you? That’s always been your favorite.”

Honestly, his mother would’ve made a damn good detective.

“You know me too well, mother,” he mutters, “but no, you wouldn’t know him. Now, I have my finals to work on, which you interrupted—”

“Hey, I didn’t force you to go on some date. I just asked for milk. Could’ve taken fifteen minutes, Keiji,” she interrupts.

He tosses a scowl at her. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Okay, okay, Keiji,” she says with a wink. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Only late enough to make sure your father doesn’t fall asleep with his glasses on.”

His father only hums in response of being forcibly dragged into the conversation. He glances up briefly to look at Akaashi over his glasses, then back down at his book so he doesn’t lose the line he’s on. “Yes, she does do a good job at that,” comes his quiet murmur. “Good nigh, Keiji.”

Nodding to both of them, Akaashi shuts the door behind him in order to make his quick escape to the bathroom then to his bedroom. Alone at last. He jumps straight into his bed, finals once again forgotten on his desk. Or not quite forgotten, still ticking annoyingly at the back of his mind. Still, somehow, he still manages to sleep soundly.


	2. Making Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just read over the previous chapter and sheesh! There were a lot of errors haha, they should be fixed now and this chapter should definitely be cleaner.
> 
> My [tumblr](silentmarco.tumblr.com)

Sunday is sunny and warm, perfect to sit outside and do his homework and studying.

That’s what his mother says at least. She practically pulls him out of his bed, shoves his textbooks in his arms—even if they aren’t the rights ones—and gives him a good kick out the back door. Maybe she secretly knew he wasn’t getting any work done and this is her way to keep a close eye on him through the window above the sink while she does the dishes.

Akaashi has no choice but to hunch down over his books, after getting the right ones of course, and start reviewing.

They have a nice backyard. It’s fenced in like their neighbors’. Flat stones create a path through the sections of plants, all separated neatly, newly mulched, and surrounded by tiny decorative rocks. The flowers have just popped up and are showing off their brightly colored bulbs. This is the result of his mother’s brief interest in landscaping a few years back. His parents have since started hiring out to get it set up each spring. The soft trickle of the water fountain is calming. It had just been brought out and cleaned from storage.

He sits cross-legged on the plush seat cushions pulled up to the long table. It seats eight. Akaashi cringes to think of the backyard parties his parents throw over the summers. He’s reminded how that time is rolling around once again. He’ll have to suffer under the gazes of coworkers, bosses, old friends, and other neighbors as he makes polite small talk to appease his parents, mainly his mother. He tries not to think about it and instead pours himself deeper into his work.

He has his notes and textbooks opened and spread out in front of him. There are a few potential starts to his two papers as well as parts of outlines on different sections of his notes. Post-it notes litter his textbook pages as reminders of quiz topics and questions.

Okay, so he is slightly prepared for his work. He just hasn’t looked at it in a few weeks. He doesn’t feel prepared. That’s what makes his procrastination seem worse than it probably is. In reality, he should be perfectly fine. Sighing, he reaches over to scratch a note for his English paper. He could probably start working on that one and finish by this afternoon. He only needs a conclusion and some quotes from the book they read a few weeks ago, _One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest_. Well, the teacher had made them make a quote journal so finding some quotes and their page numbers won’t be too hard. He should start on that now and get it out of the way. That would be something to check off, then he could move onto studying. One of his exams is tomorrow. Everything else he could spread out through the rest of the week. The oral report isn’t until Friday. He could put that one off a bit longer.

Biting the tip of his pencil, Akaashi pulls out his quote journal. The teacher assigned this to them as one of their last big grades before finals. It was one of those assignments that didn’t make any sense, but come to think of it, will actually be helpful with the paper. Though of course Akaashi is loathe to admit that this had been his teacher’s plan all along. He just grumbles and flips to the quotes that he’s highlighted. Most are dumb pointless quotes he’s pulled just to fill space to get all the points, but his teacher wasn’t the only one thinking ahead with the assignment. Akaashi’s had ideas for his paper and luckily all the quotes he’ll need are right here.

Good, because he left the book at school.

He’s partway through starring the quotes he needs, assigning them paragraphs, when he feels eyes on the back of his neck. It’s a subtle feeling. His hair stands on edge and there’s an itch he knows he just won’t be able to scratch. Faking a cough into his elbow, Akaashi chances a quick glance over his shoulder before he’s forced to return to his work. He can’t risk appearing too obvious.

Sure enough, he spots two separate sets of hair poking out over the fence of his next-door neighbors’. He didn’t get a close enough look, but he can only assume that are the ones watching him. How troublesome. He hasn’t even gotten through part of his work he set for today. Of course, he had to put all of his studying and paper writing onto Sunday.

Becoming aware that he is currently being observed like an animal at the zoo heightens Akaashi’s senses. He can hear them, their quiet murmurings, the way the fence creaks slightly when too much weight it pressed against it.

Because he is such a great procrastinator, he can excuse lack of work on just about anything, including small distractions such as this. Usually, the distraction would be welcomed; however, he really should be focusing on his finals today. Yesterday was the day for distractions.

Don’t turn around, don’t turn around. Don’t let them know you see them. Ignore them. Ignore.

He can practically feel his thoughts radiating off of himself and he wonders if they can feel it, too. It’s impossible to know how long it’s been or how many times he’s read over this same page of notes. He still has no idea what it’s saying. He’s too concerned with those two pairs of eyes staring holes into his back. Rubbing his nose against his shoulder, he peeks out behind him again. Nope, they’re still there. He’s not imagining it. Sighing, he tries to turn his attention back to his work.

“Hey!” a clearly irritated voice yells. It’s not one of the two watching. It’s fainter and Akaashi had heard enough of their faint, but not subtle, murmurings to know. “Stop spying on my neighbors, you perverts.”

Akaashi can actually feel the eyes turn away from him. Scary. The pressure’s suddenly gone.

“Aww, you’re always such a killjoy”

“Tsukki,” the other voice whines, dragging out the name.

Akaashi recognizes that voice and his stomach drops. He can feel a vein throbbing in his forehead.

“We have a good relationship with the Akaashis. Don’t you two go creeping them out.”

“By good relationship, you mean mothers politely saying hi when they happen to get mail at the same time. That’s neighbors. Not a good relationship.”

It’s the other guy who was staring. The darker haired one.

“It’s enough that you’re imposing your presence on me, but please don’t force it on others without consent.”

“Well, he’s studying,” Bokuto says with a very loud whisper. There’s hardly a point to whispering with that level of volume. Akaashi’s resorted to staring at the same word now, well more like glaring. He can’t help it. “We didn’t want to interrupt him. That’s all.”

“Huh?” The sound that emits from his throat surprises even him and cuts off the voices straight away. It’s loud and harsh, which is very unlike him. He blames it on the stress. Too little sleep? Maybe he could blame the sun even though it’s not nearly as hot as it will be in a month or two. By then he could definitely excuse not coming outside, then he wouldn’t have to risk putting up with this. “You’re already interrupting me,” he calls across his yard, then turns around in his chair to finally stare them down.

The three guys gaze back at him, different expressions written on their faces. The blonde, Akaashi knows he’s the youngest of the Tsukishimas, he stares blankly across at Akaashi. There’s a bare hint of irritation there, but the youngest Tsukishima has never been one for emoting much. The dark haired one, with a serious case of bedhead, he has an eyebrow raised. Akaashi thinks he recognizes him. At least he thinks he’s seen him around the Tsukishimas before. He’s slightly surprised at Akaashi’s outburst, but seems more eager to see what will come next, if Akaashi guesses correctly. Bokuto looks the most surprise, carrying enough for all three. His eyebrows nearly reach his hairline, eyes wide. He twitches like a bug, as if surprised and caught in the act of his spying. Is he completely ignorant to how loud he can be? Akaashi’s not sure what to think.

Tsukishima is the one to offer some sort of apology. “I should apologize for my guests. I don’t condone their actions, but I really can’t take responsibility for them so—” He shrugs.

It’s not much of an apology, but Akaashi didn’t expect much else.

Tsukishima is a year under him, in Lev’s year. Obviously, Akaashi knows him from growing up as neighbors, extremely quiet, nearly silent neighbors, but neighbors nonetheless. They have some sort of understanding, at least Akaashi thinks they do. They nod to each other pleasantly enough in school. Tsukishima is at least one of the few people Akaashi doesn’t pretend is invisible. That’s a surprisingly short list. Akaashi can’t be sure of his read on Tsukishima, if he’s honest, but they acknowledge each other’s existence at least.

“I’m not some animal in a zoo,” he says sternly, though he knows the two he’s lecturing are older than him. He tries not to let that bother him as he continues staring them down. “If you need something from me, you should’ve asked.”

“Sorry, Akaashi!” Bokuto squeaks, crouching partway below the fence again so that only his eyes poke out above. Suddenly, his mood takes a one-eighty, he springs back up. “But I didn’t know you were Tsukki’s neighbor! I mean I should’ve, but it was dark last night.”

“And I didn’t realize you two were acquainted,” he deadpans back.

Bokuto tosses his arm around the bedhead guy’s shoulders. “Yup! Kuroo is Tsukki’s boyfriend _and_ my number one bro.” He jabs a finger at his friend who grins smugly and then pushes him aside roughly.

“Aww, bro, sweet,” Kuroo coos teasingly.

“Akaashi?” his mother’s muffled voice comes through the back screen. “What’s all that yelling about?”

Slamming his textbook shut, more to make a point than anything else, Akaashi gets to his feet. “Nothing, Mother,” he says in a low voice before marching over to the fence. “Okay, what do you want?”

Bokuto’s eyes light up like he’s been waiting for Akaashi to ask exactly that. “Do you wanna hang out with us?”

“Can’t,” Akaashi replies shortly, “I’m studying. I have finals this week.”

“Perfect!” His arms spread wide, nearly colliding with Kuroo’s head. “We’re helping Tsukki study for his!”

A snort sounds from behind him and Akaashi looks up to find Tsukishima covering his mouth with a hand. “Are you really?” he asks and Akaashi’s quite sure that they’re absolutely not helping at all. He casts a sympathetic look the younger boy’s way, but he doesn’t see. Instead, he’s heading back inside. “If you keep them distracted, Akaashi, maybe I can get some work done. That way all three of you will be helping me study. Win-win.”

He blinks, taken aback. Tsukishima’s back door closes before he can form a response. He sighs through his nose before facing Kuroo and Bokuto again.

“This is Akaashi, Kuroo,” Bokuto is saying, waving his arms in Akaashi’s direction. “Do you remember him from school?”

Kuroo laughs. “Of course I remember, bro!”

Akaashi barely remembers Kuroo so that’s most likely a straight up lie. He regards him with a straight face, trying not to let his irritation show through.

But Kuroo must see through him somehow. “Nah, dude, really.” He holds his hands out, wiggling his fingers. “You were the—”

“Anyway,” Akaashi starts, cutting in, “I should really get back to my work. I suggest you two find something else to do, other annoying Tsukishima.”

“But hey!” Bokuto calls, stopping Akaashi before he can get too far. “What about those pictures? From last night! You never looked at them.”

Akaashi’s face falls at the realization. Composing himself, he turns back around, smiling politely. “Maybe another time, Bokuto.” As much as he wants to make sure Bokuto didn’t take any compromising pictures and effectively eliminate any chance of blackmail before it can start, Akaashi will admit that he is actually eager to see Bokuto’s talent with a camera. Last night he’d seemed like such a natural. Perhaps his photography will reveal just as much. “I look forward to seeing them,” he adds quickly before spinning around, not giving them a proper chance to say goodbye. He heads back to his table and his work. He’s lucky the air is still today so that his notes haven’t blown all over the yard. That would be his luck, to get distracted and lose all of his stuff. Of course, he’d probably still pass his exams, he reassures himself after feeling slightly panicked at the thought.

“Pictures from last night?” Kuroo asks suggestively and Akaashi can nearly hear the wink in his voice.

“It was nothing, bro. We just ran into each other.”

“Alright, bro, whatever you say, but c’mon,” Kuroo says, “let’s go play video games in Tsukki’s basement. He won’t mind.”

“Yeah! We won’t be too loud. Bye, Akaashi! You should really come hang out with us sometime.” Bokuto projects his voice to carry over the fence. He projects too well, Akaashi thinks.

He looks back at them, gives a little wave, a murmured “Thanks,” quiet enough that they might not even hear it, and turns back to his work. He gets about a minute of peace as the noise fades before his back door swings open and his mother strolls out. Akaashi is about ready to slam everything closed and call it a day. It’s not even two o’clock yet.

She crosses the stone path and sits down across from him, her hands clasped in front of her as she leans forward attentively. Of course she completely ignores the fact that he’s trying to get his work done for once. Then again, she didn’t exactly know that he wasn’t doing his studying last night.

It only takes his eyes to flicker up to her once to set her off.

“I’ve only ever heard you talk to Tsukishima over the fence,” she says, starting off casually enough, “and that definitely wasn’t him.”

Akaashi shrugs, flipping through his notes and starring a random quote without looking at it. “He has friends over.”

“Anyone I know?”

Breaking his gaze off from his studying, Akaashi scowls up at his mother. As much as she tries, she wouldn’t be able to name more than one of his ‘friends,’ if he could call anyone that. That’s more his fault than hers though. “No, Mother, no one you’d know. I barely know them.”

“Same guy from last night though, right?”

Okay, so maybe her guesses can be spot on sometimes.

Her sneaky smile confirms that she knows she’s right without needing Akaashi’s answer.

Twirling his pencil in his fingers, Akaashi sighs. “Yeah, same guy, but it’s not like we know each other. You can forget inviting him over to dinner or whatever it is you keep trying to do.”

“Not fair,” she says with a fake pout. “My son is embarrassed of me and never lets me meet his friends.”

Akaashi snickers and lifts his pencil up to continue chewing on the end of it. “Your son doesn’t have any friends to invite over. Be glad he still comes down to eat with you. That won’t be happening much longer.”

His mother plops her cheek in her hand, staring at him dryly. “You’re commuting to college, dear. We’ll still be living in the same house, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be busy. Maybe I’ll just take my meals in my room.”

“Not if I’m cooking you won’t.”

“Then I’ll make my own food.”

Leaning back in her chair, his mother pauses while crossing her arms over her chest. Her lips are turned into a slight frown, which isn’t a good sign for the outcome of their debate. “As long as you are living under my roof, mister, you are still part of this family; therefore, you will eat the majority of your meals with your father and I.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “Geez, Mother, I was only kidding anyway,” he mutters. He closes his quote journal. He’s sure he has enough quotes for his paper. Now it’s just sitting down to write it. Plus the studying he’d promised himself he’d do.

His mother smiles at him. “I know, Keiji. Just wanted to make sure you knew.” She reaches across the table to give his cheek a light pinch.

He smacks her hand away as he starts packing up his books.

“But really, you should invite that nice boy, Yaku, over sometime this summer.”

Partway through standing, Akaashi pauses. Yup, there it is. The one friend she can name. He sighs again. There’s no use denying. “Yes, Mother, I’ll certainly talk to him about it,” he replies dryly before heading inside.

*

“You look tired.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

“So do you.”

Yaku chuckles at Akaashi’s response, but it’s true. The two are both sporting bags under their eyes that end of the year stress causes. Then again so is everyone else in the classroom. Even the chatter is down to a low murmur. Akaashi ended up pulling an all-nighter last night. Not a good thing to do before a Monday, definitely not good right before exam week, but he had a good groove going. After dinner, he had sat down at his desk and really got to work. His phone had died so that wasn’t a distraction, not that it ever is, and, once he had started, Akaashi figured he might as well finish. And that’s how he ended up getting all of his work done in one night. The stress was eating him alive anyway.

Covering up a yawn, he refocuses on Yaku. “Do you have any exams today?” Akaashi asks.

“Two. Then one Thursday. Are your papers all due Friday, too?”

Akaashi nods and rests his head in his arms that are folded on the desk. He has a study hall after lunch he usually skips. Maybe he’ll take a nap then. The band room’s always empty around that time and is his hideout of choice. “Yeah, but back up. You only have one later in the week?” Thursday and Friday are the allotted final exam times for seniors. The rest of the school do theirs Monday through Wednesday next week, but since they’re graduating, seniors get that week off. Therefore their finals are earlier. Is that week off truly worth it?

Akaashi thinks so, considering he just finished the bulk of his work. He plans on sleeping that week away to make up for what he’s lost already and what he’s bound to lose in the next few days. Then it’s off to graduation.

Now there’s just the exams to ace and the oral report not to trip over.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Most of my classes have really zeroed in on essays this year. I think they said something about testing us the first half of the year, then doing papers at the end.” Yaku leans back against his desk from having to turn around to talk to Akaashi. “But at least I have my one and only exam in Calculus with you.”

They both have Calculus on Thursday, but Akaashi is a little jealous that’s Yaku’s only exam. If that were him, he’d already be done with his papers, what with all the time he spent working last night.

This is their first year in the same homeroom, which is both a good and bad thing. The good being that Akaashi won’t fall asleep so easily, and believe him, that’s happened way too many times for it to just be a joke anymore. He almost slept through first period once. The bad being that they sit around making fun of how tired the other looks.

Okay, not that bad, but Yaku has just about ruined his sleeping schedule almost as badly as Akaashi has.

Yaku is as close as Akaashi can call a friend. No, he means Yaku is definitely a friend, but it’s not like they hang out every weekend like the band geeks do in their separate gaggle of friends, or hang out at football games, or whatever else it is that friends do.

They share classes together. They exchange exaggerated looks, maybe an occasional eye roll, when a teacher is telling the same joke from sophomore year. They complain about classes, homework, exams, and halfheartedly try to match up study hall periods so that they have someone to silently study with.

So. Friends.

This year they have Calculus, which is a daily struggle for Yaku, not so much with Akaashi since he’s pretty good with numbers. There’s gym, but they’ve been skipping that since about November, if he remembers correctly. Getting an A in gym is easy. You show up for attendance, then slip out the side door when the whistle blows. They get lunch together, but they couldn’t pair up study halls this year since Yaku decided to take AP Biology instead of AP Physics with Akaashi. At least there’s always homeroom.

Which of course is just them sitting silently, half asleep, waiting for the bell to ring.

It’s not much, but it’s school and it’s Yaku. It’s easy. And Akaashi really should be doing some studying for his exam next period.

He buries his face deeper into his arms.

“You have a minute,” Yaku remarks with a quick glance up to the clock.

Groan.

“Oh, by the way—”

Akaashi glances up in time to see Yaku rummaging through his things. He pulls out a card that was tucked in his assignment book. Turning back around, he lays it on top of Akaashi’s stack of textbooks and notes.

“—I’ve been meaning to give you this. Completely forgot.”

Picking it up, Akaashi squints to take a look at it, though he could be blind and still know what it is. After all, he’s received countless of the same cards, despite being a nameless face in the sea of seniors graduating. However, this one makes him smile. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered at least once if he’d be getting one from Yaku.

It’s a graduation party invite. They’re always the big craze this time off year, being thrown about like rice after a wedding. He sees freshmen eyes go wide at invites handed their way, thrilled to be included, surprised at being noticed and remembered by the towering seniors. On the other hand, seniors print as many as they can carry, invite as many people as possible, students, faculty, peers, friends, strangers, family, distant family, questionable family, whoever.

It’s a money ploy to pay for college dressed up as a fancy party invitation, promising free food, a good time, and hopefully good memories.

Akaashi rolls his eyes at Yaku just as the bell rings, signaling them to move to first period. Both stand and head to the door to cattle into the hallway with the rest of the school. “To think, you nearly forget to give me mine.”

“Oh shut it. You probably would’ve turned up anyway,” Yaku says, playfully bumping into him. It’s light enough that it doesn’t send Akaashi straight into a passing group of junior girls. They’ve learned how to maneuver through the halls by now. He only thinks that because their freshmen year Yaku did actually push him into a group of seniors once on accident. It was terrifying.

“I mean, probably,” Akaashi says around a smirk. “But me sleeping through it is more likely and you know it.”

“What’s sad is my mom knows it, too. She reminded me this morning or else I really would’ve forgotten.” Yaku adjusts his books sheepishly. “She said, ‘You know that boy won’t show unless you give him one,’ and so I remembered.”

Akaashi gives a sympathetic shake of his head. “Moms.”

“Yeah, oh and try to maintain some semblance of a sleep schedule this summer? I had her down my back forever wondering why we had to hang out at two in the morning instead of two in the afternoon.”

Oh yeah, they hang out sometimes in the summer. Not doing much, maybe binge a season of a show or something. They’re both notorious for being years behind whatever’s trending. They have a few lined up for this summer, at this point it’s between _The Office_ or _Breaking Bad_. It’s always better to wait for the shows to come out on Netflix to binge so Akaashi thinks it’s worth it.

Yaku’s words make Akaashi laugh out loud. “No promises. I work odd hours in the summer, remember?”

Pulling a face, Yaku pauses at the end of the hallway. “You’re still keeping your bookstore job?” Then he shrugs, attitude changing relatively quick. “Oh well, Mom can’t complain if you’re working. You should hear her when she gets on me about that.”

Akaashi cringes. Yaku’s mother can wage havoc just as much as his own mother can. However, with Yaku having no job, he definitely isn’t jealous of that.

“But I swear that’s changing this summer.” Yaku turns toward a classroom. “See you at lunch,” he tosses over his shoulder.

The late bell is about to ring, but luckily, Akaashi’s class is just two doors down from Yaku’s. He never worries about being late. They almost have their morning routine planned down to the second, even if the majority of it means sitting in silence, waiting for the two of them to wake up fully. That means Akaashi knows he always has a few seconds to spare after walking into his English class.

He sits down and suppresses another groan at the stack of exams at the front of the room, another looming reminder. He had almost forgotten for a second there. This is his only class that insists upon having two finals. Today is an exam on _Macbeth_ , which they had read months ago. It’s truly unfair that they need to be tested so extensively on it, but hey, that happens every year with at least one of Shakespeare’s plays. Then there’s the _One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest_ paper due Friday.

This is a crime, he thinks as he slides his stuff under his seat and gets out a pencil. At least after today he won’t have to think about the two stories ever again.

Once the late bell rings, their teacher comes to the front of the room. It’s a small class with just over ten students. The senior advanced science classes are much more popular, but Akaashi remembers his mother telling him it was a good idea to load up on as many advanced classes as possible. So with all the empty desks available, they’re made to spread out before the exams are handed out. Akaashi hunches over his to begin, desperately wishing he had slept at least a little bit the night before.

*

“I thought I might find you here.”

Akaashi groans and blinks blurrily up at the ceiling.

“You had ‘all-nighter bags’ under your eyes this morning.”

He’d been sleeping. It wasn’t great, the counter sitting in the center of the band locker room is anything but comfy, but it was something. Sitting up, he finds Yaku standing in the doorway. That had been closed last time he looked.

“Hey, don’t be grumpy. Be happy I bothered to stop by to make sure you didn’t sleep through class,” Yaku says.

After morning practices, the band room doors get locked up, leaving the locker room and some of the practice rooms still open to students. Akaashi knows of a few people who come to practice throughout the day, putting their study halls to much better use than he does. When he first came today, there was a flute player practicing, but she’s since left, or is just cooped up reading in the quiet that the abandoned rooms provide this late in the afternoon. That’s why Akaashi likes it. The practice rooms have windows, so he always came in here. The last thing he needs is anyone spying on him during his nap period. He comes in, closing both doors on either side of the locker room, curls up on the counter because he is definitely not sleeping on the floor, and sleeps for forty minutes.

Right on cue, his phone alarm goes off. Yaku’s early. Akaashi swings his legs over the side of the counter.

“Remember when we hid out in here during that all-day assembly?” Akaashi asks with a smirk to which Yaku rolls his eyes. His expression says that if they get too caught up talking they’ll be late for class, but his mouth doesn’t say any of that.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been hit by the senior sentimentality, too,” he groans but continue, saying, “Yeah, I remember. We almost got caught.” His face breaks into a smile. He walks over and opens up one of the cupboards below the counter. They should be used for storage, but they’re always empty. “We heard someone coming so we hid down in here for—what—was it an hour?”

Akaashi shrugs, laughing as well. “I don’t know, it must’ve been. We both forgot our phones in one of the lockers. Lucky we didn’t get caught.”

He remembers he had just barely fit into the cabinet. The shelves had been removed long ago, which meant, if they folded themselves up enough, they could squeeze inside. Or Akaashi was the one that had to squeeze. He’d never say it out loud, but with Yaku’s smaller size, he seemed to fit rather easily.

“You’re lucky you don’t get caught every time you skip your study hall.”

“Tch, he never takes attendance.”

“Until the one day he does and you won’t be there for it.”

“Well, I’ll deal with that when it happens. He’s got four days left to suddenly start taking attendance. I think I’m in the clear.” Akaashi shoves himself off the edge of the counter and grabs his Calculus stuff. Last class of the day. “Besides, I don’t think you have any room to talk. Weren’t you the one to suggest we start skipping gym?”

They walk out of the band hallway and turn to the stairwell. Yaku’s face flushes at the accusation and he scowls up at Akaashi. “That’s completely different. I told you, they’re making gym optional to all students who play a sport, but starting next year! We won’t be here then and that’s absolutely unfair.”

“I didn’t say I disagreed with you, just that it was your idea.”

“Hell yeah it was my idea,” Yaku mutters darkly. “I’m never participating in that class again.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes at his friend’s overzealousness. “Yeah and I’m just the one backing you up here.”

Yaku’s the one who plays a sport. He’s on the boys’ volleyball team in the fall. Akaashi goes along with the plan because he just really hates gym class. As long as he has someone to skip it with, he sees no reason to attend. They’ll just sneak into the band room instead. Plenty of the band kids skip classes there as well. If someone happens to find Yaku and him, no one would say anything. Even the band teacher is never around. He’s there for the first two periods of the day before he heads over to the middle school to teach. As long as they’re quiet about it, no word ever has to get back to the teacher about his students skipping class in his room.

“We’re just reviewing today in class right?” Yaku asks as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

“That’s what he said on Friday,” Akaashi replies. “I swear, he’s the only teacher who gives us seniors an easy time during the last week of classes.”

“Yeah, but that exam is gonna be rough.”

“Says you.”

“Hey, I’ll do fine. I’ve been studying my ass off for it.”

Sighing, Akaashi knows Yaku’s right. Yes he’s studied a lot already for their Calculus exam and yes he’s good with numbers, but it’s an advanced placement class for a reason. The teacher’s giving them an easy time this week for a reason. It’s gonna kick their asses clear to graduation.

“Well, if you want, you could come over sometime and we could actually study for once.”

Yaku pulls a face. “What, are you saying our studying at school doesn’t count?” he teases.

“Yes, we studied very hard this morning in homeroom.”

“Alright,” Yaku agrees easily. They walk into class and take their seats in the back. “You know we’re going to get homework problems to help us study tonight. How about Wednesday night then? We could go over our answers with each other.”

Akaashi nods, it’s his turn to sit in his desk sideways in order to face Yaku. “Sounds good. Yours or mine?”

“Ooh, how about yours? You never have me over.” Yaku grins slyly.

Groaning would be the easiest reaction to Yaku’s reaction. “Ugh, you know how my mother is.”

“And you know how mine is.”

The teacher goes to the front of the room, rapping his knuckles on the board to get everyone’s attention. There are already practice problems listed there for them to do.

Akaashi sighs loud enough for Yaku to hear as he turns back around. “Fine, my place,” he concedes, “but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

“Great!” comes Yaku’s whispered response. “Can we get pizza, too?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very excited for this story. It's something I've been planning for a while and I figured why not post it now? I'm already very bad at updating lol but I will do my best. This is something I very much want to finish.
> 
> My usual tumblr: [silentmarco](silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
> And I have a new one for all my writing things: [simawrites](simawrites.tumblr.com)  
> Feel free to talk to me about writing or whatever you like! I'm always (mostly) around :)


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